


Stolen Night

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a pirate, John is a soldier. All their nights together are stolen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Night

“'I began to think perhaps the ocean had gotten the better of you this time,” said John.

Sherlock cupped John’s cheek. “Not even she could keep me from you, John.” His other hand rested on his hip and his eyes closed as if remembering some recent near-tragedy.

John’s hands were caught in his sleeves, but he moved his head to kiss the pad of Sherlock’s thumb, then his soft lips, bringing him back to the present, to this stolen night.

Sherlock opened his eyes again. The scar on his cheek gave him something of a permanent scowl, but John had seen the truth in his eyes. And he loved this man. Getting his hands free of his shirt, he ran his fingers gently up his back. More scars passed under his fingertips, evidence of the hard life his lover had been driven into. He didn’t know all the details, of course, but he knew enough.

Moaning, Sherlock leaned in to kiss the smaller man’s neck. John guided him back towards the bed and lay him down. His lover moaned softly as John’s hands roamed his body. The pale eyes opened as he found the newest wound. “Really, John, it’s fine.”

“That’s what you say every time.” John kissed just above it, mindful it was still healing.

Reaching down to card a hand through his hair, Sherlock pulled him back up to meet his eyes. “I will always come back to you, John Watson.”

John’s heart ached. Not for the first time he wished they could be together always. He kissed his lover fiercely, moving him further up the bed as he settled between his thighs, moving slowly together, pulling a quiet moan from reticent lips.

“My Sherlock,” he said quietly, rolling his hips again and watching his hair come loose. The moonlight softened the scars and the hard lines of well-used muscles. It made him look younger, more like the age he truly was. Soft and vulnerable and all his.

“Yours, John Watson,” said Sherlock, just as softly. If the moonlight and the tropical heat were a spell, the sweat between their bodies was an elixir. He cupped the younger man’s hips and kissed down his breastbone, drawing more soft moans from him as his tongue dipped down into his belly button, nose in the soft trail leading down to his ultimate goal.

It was impossible, that they should be here. He was one of the Queen’s soldier’s; Sherlock was a wanted pirate. He prayed against the dawn, not caring if it was blasphemy as he freed Sherlock of his breeches and took in the glory of his fully naked body below him. The pale eyes watched him, trusting.

John smiled softly and reached for the oil he’d brought. Sherlock obediently spread his legs. He knew, as a captain, that his lover could never show vulnerability in front of his men. It was the same for him with the soldiers he worked with. He leaned down and nipped a pale thigh, bringing them both back to the present as his fingers stroked Sherlock’s entrance.

Slowly he pressed his fingertips in. Sherlock grabbed the headboard and spread himself wider still, arching up against him. John gave him a moment to adjust and started slowly thrusting his fingers, leaning down to suck a nipple to hardness. He grazed it with his teeth, making him groan again.

Sherlock’s cock lay heavy against his stomach. He pushed down on John’s fingers, seeking more. John chuckled softly and licked the slit of his cock, pushing in as far as he could go, crooking his fingers to find the prostate. Sherlock shouted, eyes going wide.

“Shhh, love,” admonished John, covering his cries with his lips, making him writhe and thrash beneath him.

“John, John…,” Sherlock chanted, need cracking his voice, hips bucking up. One hand came down to squeeze John’s cock and give it a stroke and he moaned.

Withdrawing his fingers, John lined up and thrust forward all at once, grabbing Sherlock’s wrists and pinning them above his head. He took him roughly, knowing how much his pirate prince like it that way. He liked giving up control, the one time he would surrender to the Crown. John leaned in and nipped at his throat before sucking a love bite into his shoulder. It would fade before the next time they met, but it would be a reminder, at least for a while.

Sherlock’s long legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. John could drown in his arms. If Sherlock was the sea he’d happily go this doom. He thrust into his lover like the waves pounded the shore. Dark hair cascaded across the white sheets. So beautiful. John kissed full lips, tonguing his mouth slowly, sharing panting breaths, Sherlock’s pulse skittering under his hands.

John shifted his angle, making Sherlock cry out again. He knew he was the only one to see him this way. He fucked him harder, nearly brutal, knowing just how much he could take. With a loud cry Sherlock came between them without a touch.

“Good,” groaned John. He gathered two handfuls of curls in his hands and kissed him as Sherlock squeezed around him. Raising his head he watched Sherlock’s blown eyes as he reached his own climax, eyes squeezing shut as he filled him. Sherlock’s hands came up and smoothed down his back. In this moment they were safe. Secure. Together.

Finally, John kissed him one more time before resting his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock turned his head to give him a kiss on the shell of his ear. John knew he should get up, clean off. But he’d be damned if he’d leave his lover’s arms a minute sooner than necessary. One of Sherlock’s hands came to rest on his arse and he smiled softly against his skin. He wanted to speak of love, but that was foolish, no matter the truth of it.

The hot breeze blew across his skin as his heartbeat slowed. Sherlock held him close, just as disinclined to move. The dawn would come soon enough and they would both slip back to their other lives. But Sherlock would carry the heart of a soldier with him, and John held the heart of a pirate prince.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on[ willietheplaidjacket's art](http://willietheplaidjacket.tumblr.com/post/85418252472/willietheplaidjacket-i-began-to-think-perhaps).
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
